The Edge of Trust: Team Edge (31 page)

So, why wait to leave until tomorrow?  Why not leave right now, this minute?

Or, in say, an hour.  After he found Ellie and helped himself to a little revenge.  He had a weapon, he could sneak into the fortress, find Sanchez, and--

Die.  

As much as he wanted Sanchez dead, he couldn’t pull it off by himself.  And no way in hell was he going to put Ellie’s, or Lena’s, life in danger. 

Sanchez’s men were loyal, and now that Sanchez had made him, Matt wouldn’t be able to get within a hundred feet of the bastard.  He could, however, drop Lena off somewhere and then get help.  He knew where the fortress was, he could radio the coordinates to the entire DEA if he wanted to.

The problem was, there were miles of jungle to hike through before he hit the nearest town, he had no gear, and he sure as hell couldn’t drag a baby and woman along behind him.  Even if said woman was a little spitfire.  “So, what’s your plan?  And why not leave now?”  

“I have a contact who can have a helicopter at a meeting place about three kilometers from here.  But not until tomorrow.  Late afternoon.”

He almost laughed.  Almost.  The only
contacts
in Mexico who owned helicopters in the middle of the jungle were drug runners, guerillas, or Federales.  And now that he had a rep as a snitch, he didn’t particularly want to meet up with any of them. 

Except that, shit, what choice did he have?

But if she thought he was waiting until tomorrow to leave this stinking hellhole, she had another think coming.  “Just how reliable is this contact?” 

“Fifty thousand dollars worth.”

He raised his eyebrows.  “And you just happen to have that kind of cash?”

“I will by tomorrow.”

“If you’re thinking about stealing it from under Sanchez, that’s suicide.”

“So is staying here.”

“Tell me something.  Why hasn’t Sanchez killed me yet?

She looked a little distressed.  Like his death was just around the corner.  And maybe it was, as far as Sanchez was concerned, but why Lena would care, he had no idea. 

Not that it really mattered. 

Now that he had an Uzi, he was feeling a little more equalized.  Still, he needed to play it smart--one gun against one hundred were not great odds. 

“I don’t know what’s happening, but it seems like Sanchez is waiting for something.  The guards have orders to move you tomorrow night.”

Waiting for some
thing
--or some
one
? 

“So will you?”

“Will I what?”

She went back into princess mode and looked at him like a very sexy, but annoyed, school teacher.  “Fly me to the coast.  Help me leave.  Haven’t you been paying any attention at all, Mr. Vega?” 

He didn’t correct the use of his name.  The less people who knew his real name, the better.  “Yeah, sure.  But I think we should try to leave now.”

“We can’t.  I don’t have the money yet.”

“Well, we can leave
here,
as in leave this cell.  No way am I spending another night in this hole.  I’ll hang out in the jungle until you’re ready.” 

More like he’d follow her sweet little ass back into the den of hell and help her.  He wasn’t about to let her steal fifty grand from Sanchez on her own.  Not that he was going to tell
her
that.  She was too liable to go all ninja on his ass again, and then he’d really have to deck her. 

“If you leave, and someone notices, we’re both dead.  You have to stay here until tomorrow.  And I need the gun back.”

“Oh, hell no, you don’t.”     

She squared off on him, and he thought, damn, he was gonna have to either whoop her ass or use The Force until she passed out.  Not that he was some Jedi hero, but making her vagal would be lots easier on his balls.  

She held out her hand, all imperial like.  “Give me the gun.”

“No.”

“If I don’t have it with me, and someone calls me on it, what am I going to say?  Oops, golly, I guess I lost it?”

He thought about that for a minute.  Sounded like a girl thing to do.  Except, probably not
this
girl.  And wasn’t that just his rotten luck.  Instead of getting Cinderella, he got Princess Leia with extra attitude. 

He hated to admit it, but she was probably right.  Weapons didn’t come cheap out here, and he didn’t want to be responsible for her getting beaten.  Or worse.  

He sighed.  “Fine.  I’ll give you the weapon.  You give me the lock.”

She nodded, plucked the lock from her back pocket, and slapped it into his palm.  He grudgingly, and ever so slowly, handed over the Uzi. 

“So you’ll be here tomorrow, when I come back?”

“That’s the plan.”

Her eyes looked brighter.  Almost eager.  “I’ll bring food.  And medicine for your wounds.  You’ll see, we’ll be on the beach in no time.”

He nodded, started to sit in the mud, stopped.

“Manny?  You remember that time when you were twelve and mama took us to the beach?”

“Wait.  Before you go.  Is there...do you know...I need to find someone named Maggie.”

Lena crossed her arms over her chest.  Raised an eyebrow.  “Why?”

“Something a friend told me to do.”

“Juan.”  The brightness left her eyes, replaced by tension and sadness.  “I am Maggie.”

“I thought your name was Lena.”

“Only here.  My name is Magdalena.  I’m usually called Maggie.  Maggie Alvarez.”

Alvarez
.  Juan.  Juan Alvarez.  “Was Juan your--?”

“Yes.  Juan was my husband.”

Maggie turned and walked out the door while Matt slid down the wall in sorrow.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Journal Entry

Random stuff this week.

Been hearing rumors about some badass named Vega.  Tosses bodies into abandoned silver mines.  Not sure if he’s an assassin or some wild buckaroo trying to rise in the cartel ranks.

Want you to know that I cover my ass extremely well.  I keep my hard-drive clean and my journals on a thumb drive in a place so safe even God himself would have to look.  I know once this story breaks, once the SBC is tried and found guilty, you’ll have these notes and write one hell of a story. 

Marco and I continue to butt heads.  Nothing new there.

Rigged the tunnel yesterday with enough explosive to reach the friggin’ border.  There’s only one maintenance man now and he’s a lazy SOB.  I’d suggest Sanchez fire him, but that would defeat my purpose.  Some day I’m going to blow the tunnel for the sheer joy of it.  In the meantime, the explosives are well hidden and the tunnel remains unused.

I’ll be home for your birthday.  The thought of seeing your lovely face keeps me going when I’m neck deep in ugly. 

I miss you more than you know.  ~~ D.C.

<><><>

Sara glared at Dillon’s heels.  She kept the flashlight trained on his feet and the path, his feet and the path, every now and then swinging the light up to make sure a branch didn’t snap in her face.  Not that this was an actual path or trail or anything like that.  No, they were winging it, making their own way deeper into the dense undergrowth, in a foreign country, with snakes and wild animals, it was pitch black out, the storm was getting worse and Sara was getting more and more nervous.  What if they were doing nothing more than getting themselves lost?  “How do you know we’re not trudging around in circles?”

He stepped over a fallen log and helped her across.  “I have a compass on my watch.”

A compass.  Of course.  She sighed.  “I don’t suppose that compass is telling you how far Sanchez’s place is from here?”

“No, but if you like, maybe I could find you an Indian trail guide, or better yet, pitch you a tent, call you a taxi.” 

She squared her shoulders.  Great, now he was annoyed.  Well, fine.  Stellar.  “Yes, why don’t you.  And order room service while you’re at it.  I’m hungry.”  Hungry and scared and worried.  Wet and wind-blown.  Tired beyond belief.  “I can’t see more than a foot in front of me.”

“I’ll order flood lights while I’m pitching that tent.”

“You’re being an ass.”

“You have no idea.”

Sara clamped her lips shut and let it go.  He wanted to sulk, let him.  Not that she could really blame him.  He didn’t want her along, and right now she didn’t either.  She just wanted her baby.

After almost another hour of walking, trudging, slipping, and plodding, she flicked her flashlight upward to check out their surroundings, and thought, oh goodie, it’s official.  They were in No Man’s Land.  Between the rain, the wind, the mud and the foliage, not to mention the absolute blackness, it was all she could do not to panic.  “Dillon,” she tapped him on the shoulder with her flashlight.  “I’m starting to get claustrophobic.  Can we take a break?”

“Clock is still ticking, Sara.  Hold on to the back of my shirt, and don’t you dare panic.”

She wisely kept her mouth shut, stuck one foot in front of the other and let Dillon deftly maneuver them over and around knotted roots, tangled vines, and overhung branches. 

<><><>

Dillon picked his way over a particularly large root, pointed it out to Sara so she wouldn’t trip, and wanted to curse in frustration.  The jungle was absolutely no place for a woman, any woman, let alone his wife. 

Sara had to be miserable and scared, and he had no idea what to do with her.  He didn’t know how far away Sanchez was.  He didn’t know where to stash Sara.  He didn’t even know if he
could
stash her.  He did know he couldn’t very well leave her to fend for herself, but he couldn’t take her with him to face Sanchez either.

He pushed aside another vine directly in front of him and then stopped so abruptly that Sara barreled right into his back with a loud
oomph
.  Turning around, he gave her a hard stare. 

She looked so miserable and worried it made it hard to remember why he was mad at her in the first place.  Why he’d been glaring and carrying on like a jerk for the past hour. 

Before he had time to apologize, or reassure her, a tree limb crashed down behind them.  The storm was gathering strength, and if they didn’t take shelter soon, they were going to spend the night wet and windblown and in complete darkness.

Pointing the beam of his flashlight back in the direction they’d been headed, he could just barely make out what looked like the entrance to a cave in the side of a rock wall.  Caves were plentiful in this part of Mexico, and when they’d started out, he’d kept his compass aimed for the closest cliff structure he’d seen.  It looked like maybe his hunch had paid off and he hoped some kind of wild animal hadn’t had the same idea.

“The storm’s getting worse.  Looks like there might be a cave up ahead.”  He pointed to an outcropping of rock and had to shout over the wind.  “We can take shelter there for the night.”

As they got closer, he saw the entrance to the cave was about six feet wide.  It was pitch black inside, but as he flicked his flashlight around, he could see that it opened up into a large room, wide, with a high ceiling, and so far, thank you God, mercifully dry.  He was sure Sara’s entire body was sore and
pruney from slogging along in wet clothes.  As rough as the interior of the cave was, right now it felt just as good as a room in a five-star hotel.  Hell, he’d seen homes in third world countries that weren’t this nice.

Dropping his duffel bag onto the floor of the cave, he silently fumed as he thought about the events of the day, and wondered how long he was going to be able to keep Sara alive through all of this. 

He’d done things in his life she could never possibly imagine, things, he was sure, that would give her nightmares for the rest of her life.  And through it all, he’d lived.  But this time the odds against him were staggering.  The odds against saving Ellie and Sara and Matt even more so.  And the more that ugly voice inside his head taunted him, told him he wasn’t really a hero, that he might not be able to save her, his child, and Matt, the more furious he became. 

Without warning, he turned on Sara and erupted.  “Do you know how many times today you could’ve been killed?” 

Sara dropped her duffel next to his with raised brows.  “I don’t need you to lecture me.”

“Jesus, Sara, what the hell am I supposed to do with you?”

Hands on hips, she squared off, glaring. “Don’t you put all this on me!”

“The hell I won’t!  Lifting that flash drive out of my duffel bag was
not
a smart move.  You should be with Jake back in some seedy hotel, not here in the friggin’ jungle!”  He swiped a hand over his face and gave her a hard look.  “Christ, Sara, don’t you get it?  Sanchez is a demon, and he’ll kill you without thinking twice.”

“I guess that’s a chance I’ll have to take.”

“You don’t take chances with a man like Sanchez!  Do you
want
to die?”

“Of course not!  But, I don’t want my child or my brother to die, either!  And I don’t want you to die!”  She swiped her hair back and said more somberly, “I didn’t choose all this, but I’m here, so back off.”

She was right, she hadn’t chosen any of this.  His vendetta with Sanchez hadn’t allowed her a choice in the matter.  And just that fast, his anger deflated.  “I need to check out the rest of the cave.  Stay here.” 

She nodded and sat down. 

Dillon made a sweep of the cave with his flashlight.  From what he could see, the cave stretched pretty far back.  He pulled his gun, just in case, and slowly made his way into the dark. 

Not too far from the entrance, there was a decent sized amount of water, resembling a large creek, maybe an underground river, running down one wall of the cave and pooling about twenty feet from the entrance.  It was moving, not stagnant, and appeared wondrously clear.  The pool it formed was fairly large and looked to be four or five feet deep--big enough for a bath.  Sara, he thought, was going to be thrilled.  Hanging around with mud caked in places mud should never be caked was not a picnic.

He explored a little more and about sixty feet in, smelled guano.  He flipped off his light.  Bats.  Great.  There could be hundreds or even thousands in a cave this size, and if they scattered, Sara would freak right back into the jungle.  He retraced his steps a good thirty feet before he switched the flashlight back on.